The Diary Of Charlotte Rogers
by Smickan
Summary: Based around BJD, 'Super Sarge' feels the same, but Charlie's oblivious to even the most obvious of hints, resulting in 'comfort' from 'small blonde DC'.
1. Default Chapter

**Title: **The Diary Of Charlotte Rogers

**Author:** Kym

**Rating:** PG-13 Purely cos she swears a fair bit and theres a few inuendoes.

**Summary:** Charlie's diary - her inner most thoughts and feelings.

**Characters: **Charlie, Mickey, Smithy, Gina, Kerry, Andrea...there will be more.

**Disclaimer:** All recognised characters belong to The Bill writers and Thames TV, the idea for this fic is obviously Bridget Jones as owned by Helen Fielding and several people like Universal and Picador publishers. Everyone else is mine!

**Authors Notes: **Thanks to Sammie for letting me steal her 'bit that goes at the start of her fics' no matter how unknowing it is

* * *

**January 1st 2005**

_Weight: 9st 2lb, alcohol units: Probably triple figures , cigarettes: 27 and a half., calories …probably best not to count those._

I don't know why I'm so bothered…ok, I lie – I do know why I'm so bothered, the inner Charlie in me wants to leap on him and never let go, but somehow (and it surprises me as much as it probably does you, diary) the brain kicks in and tells me that not only is holding him hostage whilst waving a pair of bright pink, fluffy Anne Summers handcuffs in front of him slightly illegal…it's also a little too keen.

However much I think a quick grope with everyone's favourite sergeant would be worth being arrested for sexual harassment, Mickey manages to jolt me back to reality and forces more alcohol down my throat and so now I'm where I usually am when this happens…draped naked over a small blonde DC whilst he snores in my ear, but we won't go into that….

She was draped all over him last night. Dunno why everyone thinks she's so pretty, it looks like someone's stuck a hoover to her face and the winds changed so she's stuck like it. Honestly, she looked like she was going to eat him when he kissed her cheek last night…she was well pissed off. Couldn't help but laugh at her pout, as she watched him kiss Gina's cheek, he couldn't wait to escape her clutches. Poor Kerry my arse….

I don't like the way that Andrea was looking at him either. These women need to find their own objects of lust! He's mine!

Still, when it comes down to it – I got a quick peck on the cheek as well, made last year and this one too. So nice of him to wish me Happy New Year too, though probably shouldn't have stood so close to him, his lips brushed my ear as he whispered and his hand was on my hip, probably to keep me from leaping on him there and then. Good job Mickey dragged me away before I could say anything else – saved me from almost certain arrest. I saw him looking over as I was dancing with the girls a bit later, probably telling Gina just how bad I am.

Can you still make new years resolutions past midnight today? Or is it like April Fool's Day when it's all redundant after midday? Still – might was well list some, see how many I can keep to.

**I WILL:**

Stop staring in Sergeant Smith's direction whenever he appears in the canteen, or front office, or in his office.

Stop ignoring members of the public when they come into report a crime when said Sergeant is in the room.

Stop sleeping with Mickey to make self feel better.

Stop daydreaming about a relationship with Super Sarge, and stop practising a signature for 'Charlotte Smith'.

Look in to getting own house, instead of sharing with Mickey – sharing makes number three kind of a definite.

When get home alone at end of evening, no longer do thing of chain-smoking fags, glugging wine then lurching around to "I Will Survive", bursting into tears, and end up attached at the genitals to small blonde DC. Instead will sip from large glasses of water and listen to classical music whilst humming along intelligently.

Resolve not to drink at moment when drink is offered rather than morning after.

Learn how to cook properly, rather than existing on takeaway each night.

Cut up takeaway loyalty card and stop flirting with the delivery boy for a discount.

Study up on police terminology so I know what the hell it is people are saying to me.

Learn how to do washing machine so does not always stop with water left in tub, and flood the kitchen when door opened.

Read more books and less trashy magazines. This includes when it all goes quiet at work. And flicking through to look at the pictures doesn't count.

Stop fantasising about large family with dark hair and green eyes like their father.

And most importantly, will stop daydreams about being rescued by Super Sarge. Cape, blue leotard, red undies on the outside included.

**I WILL NOT:**

Humour Mickey and tell him camel coloured jacket suits him, when really it makes him look like a pile of vomit.

Smoke butt ends from ashtray when have run out of cigarettes.

Smoke at all, in fact.

Insist that pushing things in corners really is tiding.

Believe that all missed calls are from Smithy, and sulk for days after.

Be nice to sister, I probably should, but I still don't like her.

Stop glaring across the room each time Kerry or Andrea look my way.

Sing 'Who Let The Dog's Out' after a night in the pub with the relief as Kerry and Andrea pass.

Believe Mickey when he says there's no such thing as a skirt that's too short.

Ditto necklines.

Be more decisive. …If I can.

Froth at the mouth each time the door opens in anticipation of Smithy.

Leave work from my shift over to Marilyn's shift after spending day frothing…

Let myself be so easily distracted by all things shiny.

Oooh, phone….

Was Smithy! He wasn't sure if he'd already wished me a Happy New Year, and was calling to make sure he had. Wasn't aware he was so big on the religious ceremonies. Had to cut the call short as Mickey rolled over, snored loudly before waking and slapping my arse asking for a cup of coffee. Smithy sounded a bit put out. I hope he didn't think I was being rude.


	2. Birthday Blues

**January 7th 2005**

_Weight: 9st, alcohol units: 0, cigarettes: 1 (would have meant leaving office to smoke – giving them chance to descend on my lust object), calories 2023, practice 'Charlotte Smith' signatures 23 (must work on loop over the t's)_

Love job, and I mean – really love my job. Spent all day in sergeant's office, was nice spending time talking to Super Sarge, rather than simply drooling or frothing from afar.

He is a really nice person, despite what the others say. A bit laddie, but that's what adds to his appeal. Ok, so I'm bias and wibble at every last word he says, but it doesn't change that fact.

Lost count of the amount of times he must have caught me staring. Each time I turned round for a discreet leer, he was already watching me, made being a pervert so much harder. Surprised he didn't just call Gina in to escort me off the premises. Guh, he's so lovely….

But yeah, as I was saying… office – Smithy, and no desk sex which saddened me slightly, but I guess you can't have everything.

Spent lunch time with Gina and Smithy, talking over new filing system. Pretty hard to eat when your eyes won't follow what your fork is doing, causing major accidents, especially with yoghurt. Ended up sticking to a sandwich and crisps, but still managed to spill coffee when his arm brushed against mine in the queue. Sodding reflexes always let you down in the worst places. Still, almost scolding him is a great excuse for being able to hold his arm without looking like a groupie….

Mickey's birthday tomorrow which should be fun, he's having a drink after work in the Canley, not that he knows it yet. He keeps attempting to drop really subtle hints – subtle as a football through a greenhouse window. He keeps asking if I have any plans and grinning at me. I think he's sulking now, after being told I was going out. He keeps looking over at me and pouting, before folding his arms and 'hmph'ing'. Poor lad.

* * *

**January 8th 2005**

Gah! Brilliant night. Mikey surprised. Life good. Mikey boyfrint! Get married and have lots of babies. Proposed and everyfink! Got black eyed though!

* * *

**January 9th 2005**

_Weight: 379st, alcohol units: 503432 probably due to wine bag inside self from last night, cigarettes: 30 (Lousy hangover cure, smoking), calories: Thousands still forming from last night, hiding away in my thighs, times glared at them: lost count after 103._

Never a good idea to go out and drink the night before early shift. What started off as a quiet night drink escalated into balancing tequila slammers on head whilst giving Tony a lap dance. Or at least that's the last thing that I remember.

Amber has helpfully supplied details of what happened after, including a supposed clinch with Super Sarge, which later transpired as him picking me up from the floor before I slumped into a pile of puke….Hardly the most romantic of happenings.

According to Amber, Mickey proposed in the middle of Tony's lap dance, after June turned him down. Not happy being second choice to sergeant, but still, I said yes, and my hula-hoop engagement ring was thrust on my finger…

Must check to make sure hula hoop isn't legally binding…

But yes, Mickey's black eye was as a result of a mid-dance floor grope after the proposal...not exactly the thing you expect from 'agadoo' but still. Smithy apparently pulled him off and punched him. Why, I still don't know, he'd probably been chatting Kerry or something up before lurching over to me. But mustn't be bitter….pfft!

Must ask him if he tried to grope June too, wouldn't put anything past him if he's drank enough. At least someone wants me, even if it is to pin against a wall and molest.


	3. Bitter! Me?

**January 22nd 2005**

_Weight: 8st 10lb, alcohol units: 0, cigarettes: 0, calories: How many calories can a family sized bag of Doritos have? Rude thoughts 313…must remember the one with the superman costume…_

Have decided to become celibate. It's a lot harder than it looks. I wonder if rude and completely inappropriate thoughts of Sergeants and handcuffs and asps count as breaking any celibacy commandments! 'Thou must not even dream about jumping lustful sergeants bones, no matter how much you want to roll over and yell 'take me I'm yours!'.

….I really can't see this celibacy lark lasting.

**January 23rd 2005**

_Weight: 9st 5lb, alcohol units: 26, cigarettes: 46, calories:300000000000000000 Rude thoughts: cajillions_

This celibacy lark is a lot harder than it looks…attempted to replace rude thoughts with alcohol and cigarettes, sadly that has only served to produce more rude thoughts.

Especially when Mickey's taken to walking around naked in order to 'tempt me'. So far I've managed to resist, hence the yelps and screeches coming from the kitchen when he attempted to make a bacon sandwich.

**January 25th 2005**

_Weight: 8st 11lb, alcohol units: 2, cigarettes: 8, calories: 1080, Rude thoughts: ……_

I lasted a whole 2 minutes after last update, Mickey came through pouting for all he was worth, claming he needed 'kissing better'.

…I'll let you guess the rest, dear diary.

**February 4th 2005**

_Weight: 8st 11lb, alcohol units:0 , cigarettes: 0, calories: 1000, Attempts to send 'die bitch die' messages: I lost count after 1006._

Apparently Smithy's agreed to go for a drink with Andrea later this week. You could see her smug grin growing each time she told someone, making sure she was looking at me each time she mentioned his name. Bitch. She's already seeing someone, she comes in at stupid times of the morning reeking of aftershave when she thinks no one else is around, always to use the station showers, dunno why she can't use her own. If she tries anything, I swear I won't be responsible for my actions, Mickey's already had to hold me back from the large chocolate gateaux in the fridge. Enough for 14 people my arse……

**February 5th 2005**

Tomorrows the day, Andrea took great pleasure in making sure I knew, smug cow – she'll get her comeuppance… Loved her expression when she 'accidentally' fell over my foot in the canteen. Mashed Potato is never a good look when worn on the face. Gina looked like she was about to laugh when she saw her running out of the canteen. Not so much when she cornered me in the toilets. She wanted to know what had happened….didn't take my "I had a nervous twitch, ma'am," excuse too well….


	4. Where Do Broken Hearts Go?

**February 6th 2005**

_Weight: how much do barrage balloons weigh, alcohol units: 20 , cigarettes: 43, calories: more than at least 3 of me should eat…Amount of times almost suspended: 3_

Fuck, fuck, fuckety fuck. Can't go back to work tomorrow…can't go back ever. Might as well resign self to role in life as 'crazy old lady with cats' …lots of cats. …lots of cats and a rocking chair…lots of cats, a rocking chair and a straitjacket. ….lots of cats, a rocking chair, a straitjacket and…gah!

The morning started off alright, for the first time in god knows how long, I woke up in my own bed alone, rather than attached to small blonde DC who's hand has worked it's way inside my pyjama's. (Sleeping naked in this house is far too much of a risk…it's just asking for trouble.) Those first few glorious moments where you don't remember anything, and you're just waking up…

….and that's when it hits you. My lust object is about to be molested. (…that's technically what it is – should get Mickey to follow and arrest her for sexual harassment…) The catastrophe calls for emergency nicotine and alcohol replacement therapy, and possibly a little retail therapy… Colin Firth is a great way to indulge oneself when heartbroken.

Andrea's smirk couldn't have got any bigger, even when DI Manson was in the same room, you'd have thought she'd have shown a little discretion when the boss was about, but no, if anything it served to make her smirk more, fluttering her 'incredibly long (false…!) eyelashes' like she was about to take off. Smug bitch.

Tomorrow's the day I find out she did some horribly embarrassing thing, like puked over him, or…she has a third nipple or something. Wouldn't put it past her, people like that aren't human. They're from the Planet Bitch, where dropping your knickers on some 'pallet in the alley' is second nature. Not that my lust object is a slapper, but she….pfft.

Denial…not just a river in Egypt, need it to be a sodding sea to get rid of the mental pictures of her preening in the girls loos, telling Honey and Yvonne just what she was going to do. Shame GBH is illegal, I had a perfect opportunity.

Seems Inspector Gold doesn't share my views about Andrea, well – at least not in public. I could tell she didn't really want to tell me off for stucking up for myself when Andrea started (not my fault she's crap at sticking up for herself and has to run to ma'am), and for threatening to shove Andrea's ASP somewhere the sun doesn't shine, or for when she caught me plotting with Mickey.

**February 7th 2005**

_Weight: 54000000kg, alcohol units: 32, cigarettes: 40, calories: Too depressed to count. Amount of times almost burst into tears: 21_

This morning put the cherry on it. She arrived with him, in his car, attached at the lips. She'd have practically eaten him outside the nick this morning if the DI hadn't past, slamming the door behind him to make a point. Dunno why he didn't just drag her to Gina's office, I would have…after dragging her into a few doors and brick walls 'by accident' of course.

Not even a triple chocolate muffin from Mickey managed to cheer me up at lunch. I think I scared him by clinging so tightly around his neck…must remember to give him space to breathe next time.

Inspector Gold's asked me to go help her this afternoon. Usually I'd jump at the chance at being opposite his office, but I know Andrea would be hanging around making gooey eyes at him…..I'll give her bloody – gah! I wish Gina'd stop creeping up on my like that, must go back to work…


	5. Calling The Mothership

**February 8th 2005**

_Weight: 9st – I ask you, what is the bloody point, alcohol units: 0, cigarettes: 23, calories: 700. Death glares directed in Mickey's direction: 542_

"Dah-ling!"

To listen to my mother, you'd think she was a middle class snob, and to tell you the truth, _she_ is. She's spent hours in front of the mirror perfecting the way to hold herself and roll her r's better than a lion in mating season.

"Dah-ling, Michael says you're a little down."

Mickey shifted uncomfortably as he passed, avoiding my gaze. "Oh?" I bit back a sigh, not wanting more questions that she really doesn't want to hear the answer to. "I'm fine, just tired."

"I really don't know why you work for that police station, Charlotte!" She tutted. "It's not as though you're a police officer."

"…No mum."

"You never even showed an interest in the emergency services before you moved to London."

"No mum." I sighed, glaring in Mickey's direction.

Mickey turned, as if sensing my eyes burning and held his hands up, gesturing that she was nothing to do with him.

"Mind you," Mum paused, fluffing her hair in the mirror opposite the telephone as usual, giving me the chance to light a much needed cigarette. "With the crime rate, I suppose they're just pulling people off the train."

"Mmmm…" I non-answered, closing my eyes as she rabbited on, sinking to the floor.

"Charlotte!" Mum's voice was urgent, "Stop slouching."

Mickey earnt himself another glare as he sniggered, watching me instantly straighten, sitting with my back against the wall.

"And stop smoking, you know each cigarette takes 5 minutes off your life…."

How the hell does she do that? What is she? A witch! …I really should know better than to ask that question.

"So dear," Mum continued, "What is the matter?"

I had to cover the receiver of the phone to hide my snort of laughter, trying to think of a suitable answer, not wanting to offend her with 'My womb is threatening to pack up and leave if I don't jump bones with a particular sergeant at work soon, but the Scottish bint keeps throwing herself at him, and the easy little shit keeps letting her.'

"Um…nothing." I replied, forcing my tone to be light. "Really, Mickey hasn't been around a lot lately, with overtime and stuff, I just-"

"Does he know how dangerous London is for a woman on her own in today's world!" Mum scoffed, causing me to groan inwardly and rest the receiver on the table whilst I moved to make a cup of coffee, letting her rant to herself about how I should stop messing around and let Mickey make an honest woman of me, instead of pussy footing around and just living together. She's a firm believer that men and women cannot be just friends. There has to be some form of sexual relations there. I don't know why she just doesn't come out with it and ask how my sex life is. I can tell she's dying to.

She was still ranting as I lifted the receiver, having moved on to how Vix (my sister) had taken up with someone she met at college, and how he was "completely unsuitable for her, and not at all like your Mickey."

….My Mickey? When your own mother thinks you're boffing your flatmate, something is seriously wrong…

"Mum," I sighed, trying to correct her. "Me and Mickey are not together…."

"Don't be silly dah-ling." Mum trilled. "Of course you are, you _live_ together!"


	6. PMT rules AOK

**February 12th 2005**

_Weight: 9st, deserving DC's assaulted: 1. PC's bitched with: 3 Sgt's flirted with: 1!_

Still tormented by the idea of functional relationship with Mickey. Suspect mother is conspiring with said flatmate. The need to move out is growing, though I know her first words will be about the hazards in London. How she can know so much living in Leafy-Lincolnshire is beyond me, but she does. Then again, mother apparently knows everything, but then there's no telling her she doesn't.

Today was quite a good day. Managed to hit my head against the filing cabinet, but when you're 5' 2 and ¾ (the vital extra three quarters) that's almost a daily occurrence. It's not much smaller than me. Bastard.

Got to spend a fair amount of it talking to Nick Klein. I love Nick, purely platonic love, not the kind of Super!Sarge love. He never fails to amuse me, the way Smithy bitches at him and glares (…phwoar!) at all his little digs and comments, but lets him get away with murder. Some of the things he suggests and alludes to would make even Mickey blush!

He was telling me today how he and Smithy were called to a house where an intruder was suspected, only to have the lady of the house open the door to them completely stalkers. Nick wouldn't have minded if the lady in question wasn't 83, nutty as a fruitcake and had taken a liking to Smithy.

"You get all the birds, don't you mate!" Nick had grinned.

Smithy raised an eyebrow and gestured at the front door. "Shoo…"

"Sarge." Nick gave him a salute, dibbed two fingers against the side of his hat, winked at me and headed out the station.

"You shouldn't encourage him." Smithy frowned.

"I didn't." I glanced up and leant forward on the desk, "I can't help it if they can't stay away!"

"We'll have to move you…" Smithy stepped forward, the beginnings of a smirk flicking across his lips. "Somewhere where-"

"Chaz, I can't find my-"

Of all the times to walk through, Mickey had to choose then.

Hence the fact he's currently nursing a battered ear, and a bruised upper arm and is pouting like he's just found out Santa Clause doesn't exist. It's times like this I love my PMT.


	7. ohmigodohmigod

_(Lyrics taken from 'Tequila' by Terrorvision)_

**February 14th 2005 – 12am**

_Weight: elephant family size, alcohol units: 47 cigarettes: 43 calories: Too depressed to count. Amount of time spent staring broken hearted out the window: At least 2 hours._

Good old alcohol, fixer of anything. "The curse of Tequila, it makes me happy…"

…Bollocks it does. The whole 'come and get pissed and moan with us' thing achieves nothing. Well, nothing other than puking in the kebab shop. Serves Abdul right for all those years of leering down my top when he thinks I'm not sober enough to notice. I swear he drops the sachets of chili sauce on purpose so I'll bend over to help him. Still, he gives good discounts. Or he did.

Andrea went out with Smithy again last night. Or rather, they came out with a group of the relief. I think Smithy looked as surprised as we did when Andrea latched herself onto him. The DCI and DI had just walked in, and really, you could tell Neil was as disgusted as I was, the way a grown woman was flaunting herself…pathetic.

Of course, I don't flaunt myself. …Wouldn't mind if there was something to flaunt about, rather than having to pout on Mickey's shoulder, or one of the girls. I tried to answer Smithy when he was talking to me last night, but it's pretty difficult to force out pleasantries when you're muttering voodoo curses under your breath.

Don't get me wrong, he's lovely. It's her. As soon as the DI left (which was…pretty much as he'd walked in…) Andrea appeared to disappear which was a good thing. Smithy offered a lift, which I was about to take him up on before Mickey reminded me he lives the other side of Sun Hill and it was miles out of his way. Still, nice of him to offer, even if it was out of politeness.

**February 15th 2005**

_Weight: Slightly less elephant size, now down to small rhinoceros. Alcohol units: Whatever is left from last night in system. Cigarettes: 23. Number of suspicious glances at a brazen hussy: As few as I can manage…_

She's seeing someone else. It's not a guess, it's not a suspicion, she is! She came in this morning to use the showers, fumbling with the access code. I appeared from under the desk (A girl's gotta catch up on her napping when she's on earlies…) thinking it was Gina, only to be confronted by the sight of _her _with a man's jacket draped around her shoulders, her skirt halfway inside her knickers and reeking of mens aftershave.

"Good night?" I managed to force out, making sure she knew I was suspicious.

The look on her face was classic, she knew she'd been caught out. I half expected her to try and pass it off as Smithy, but she knew I knew she'd left several hours before.

"Just let me through Charlotte." She sneered. Big whoop. She knows my full name, and uses it as though it should instantly bring me cowering to my knees.

I managed a smirk, and (reluctantly) pressed the button to let her into the main station. "I'll make sure Sergeant Smith knows how keen you are."

Her perfect smug expression slipped a little and she looked worried, before setting her lips in a thin smirk as she walked through. "Oh, he already knows."

Smug bitch. She disappeared into the station after that, stopping herself from a well deserved slap.

Strange how my definition of well deserved and Gina's differ by quite a large margin, and I know she wouldn't have agreed, but it'd make me feel better.

**March 2nd 2005**

_Weight: 9st 3, Alcohol units: 0, Cigarettes 2, hot flushes: lost count, number of incoherent 'ohmigod's': Last count was about 500…_

Ladies and gentlemen, there is a god. It's name is 'short-wearing-Smithy'. (I need to work on a better code name for him…)

Found out today they're arranging a charity football match. Suspect said football match is an attempt by management to force my womb to spontaneously implode. CID versus Uniform, Smithy versus Mickey, what are they trying to do to me! Though, Mickey's my best friend, surely he wouldn't mind if I cheered on Uniform…

He would mind, wouldn't he? He'd sulk for hours, which isn't such a bad thing at times, but he's easily pacified with porn, lager and a curry.

Smithy in shorts!


	8. Oh Mickey, you're so fine

**March 7th 2005**

_Times womb has crawled out of body: Lost count. Number of rude cheers yelled across the 'field': 14 Smirks from Super Sarge: Numerous – usually accompanied with wiggles of that eyebrow and a stream of swearwords. wibble_

Jesus. It's a wonder I can still form coherent sentences after today. They had a practise for the football today, anyone would have thought they were playing rugby at one point cos of the mud and dirty tackles. (no pun intended…)

The teams so far are:

**Uniform**

Smithy – Captain

Tony – Goalie

Dan

Steve

Roger

Amber – Sub 1 – After she moaned about them being sexist and pouted.

Honey – Sub 2 – Promised the boys she'd do the 'tshirt over the head' goal celebration thing if she scored.

Lance – Sub 3

My suggestion they used Lance and Steve as goalposts didn't go down very well…

**CID**

Mickey – Captain

Ken – Goalie

Zain

Phil

Terry

Suzie – Sub 1 – Purely for her 'kong-fu kicking' as Mickey put it.

Jo – Sub 2 – After threatening to castrate Mickey in the most painful way she could think of if he didn't let her play

Rob – Sub 3 – who's not exactly happy at not playing – but was easily pacified with the thought of Amber and Honey rolling in mud and flashing.

Reg was unanimously nominated as referee. The only problem with his posting is that he doesn't actually know that much about football, and has taken to wandering around the station clutching a rule book and a whistle. He's taken to blowing said whistle at really inappropriate times, ending with Gina threatening to make him eat it.

"You're not gonna be cheering uniform are you?"

Mickey's been like a bear with a sore head all day. He doesn't understand the appeal of not only Smithy in shorts, but Dan too.

"But they….they won't win!"

Mickey really needs to work on his arguments.

I'd write more, but we're on the way to the pub for a 'team talk'.

…The fact I'm not actually on the team doesn't matter. I can cheerlead…!


	9. Football's Coming Home

**March 18th 2005**  
_Times Smithy has fouled people: 23, Amount of times said fouled people were Mickey: 20, Times Mickey has squared up to him: 21, Times I've found this horny: 21_

The match was a tremendous success, Uniform won, to a chant of 'Cheat, Cheat, Cheat' from the CID team. Still, they always have been sore losers.

Smithy was voted 'Man Of The Match', despite his tendency to foul the opposite team, I think he'd bribed Reg – but it was well deserved, he is a good player. Found out today he played Sunday league football, and you could see from his ball control no pun intended… and the way he raced up and down the pitch helping the others that he knew what he was doing.

Mickey on the other hand took to swearing, and panting for breath as he stormed from one side of the pitch to the other, barking instructions. Mickey has his speed in his favour over Smithy…but Smithy has the football know-how, not that Mickey would ever agree.

Steve was the first to pick up an injury. I suspect it was more him being a wuss and getting out with both his legs intact, given that Mickey's pep talk had consisted of 'Defend the ball to the death – or else.' And to say that he was well…lacking foot-eye co-ordination would be generous.

Amber came on in place of her, and she was a surprisingly good player. Her defence mechanism being 'flash the other side' whenever they came to tackle her worked well. She kept the ball – they had a smile on their faces.

Terry picked up an injury from a tackle by Dan, missing the ball and kicking his ankle was a genuine accident, and Dan did look appropriately sorry – so Terry said he could stay in, much to Mickey's annoyance. Jo came on in his place, threatening the Uniform team with passing back the really awful cases. They were more interested in the contents of her sports bra, causing her to score CID's first goal…

The match ended Uniform 12 – CID 6 ½. The half was begrudgingly allowed by Smithy as Jo's effort, saying she'd hypnotized them so it was only part allowed. Boys…can't take them anywhere.

The team tried to lift Smithy onto their shoulders, eventually settling for patting him heartily on the back and offering to pay for his drinks all night. Which of course he just 'had' to agree to.

The cheerleading was fun, according to Mickey he'd never heard of a cheerleader supporting both teams, but he liked the bunches, the pom poms and the incredibly short skirt tradition…, so he was easily swayed and gave in when I hugged him better. I tried to extend the offer to Smithy, but he kinda moved past without acknowledging us as he left the grounds. Suspect that was to do with where Mickey's head was resting, though it wouldn't have taken two seconds to push him back and latch onto Smithy, but…y'know.

So now, we're heading towards the pub, everything's set for a good night…just wonder how long it'll take for one of them to get bladdered and started arguing about the score. ….again.


	10. He Was Everything That I Wanted

**March 18th Contd…**

**11:37pm**

Not quite sure that cheerleading uniform is the best outfit to go to the pub in, especially not around increasingly intoxicated colleagues who bet each other the next round who can get an eyeful up my skirt.

Though, problem solved by sitting on a particular Sergeants lap for a lot of the evening. Yes dear diary, you heard…read…whatever correctly, I spent the majority of the night in the lap of Sergeant Dale Smith! Furthermore, it wasn't actually my choice (not that I'd have said no…)

It started with Mickey attempting to lift the back of the skirt, resulting in him receiving a slap, closely followed by Rob who tried his luck where Mickey had failed. In my defence, I hadn't actually slapped Rob that hard, if he hadn't leant forward, it wouldn't have stung so much, so he deserved it…

Still, it was my turn to by the man of the match a drink, I duly stepped up to the bar and carried his pint over, Dan reaching out to my skirt as I stood beside Smithy. Smithy glared at him, probably because it obstructed his reach to the glass and slapped his hand down, one arm curling around my waist as it guided me to his lap, stopping any more skirt mishaps. I giggled like my inner school girl and draped an arm around his neck, glad I'd brought my own drink over too, a perfect prop to give vital thinking time should any uncomfortable silences arise.

"Get the bloody hint." Smithy growled at Mickey as he passed the table. Mickey scowled down at Smithy, obviously suppressing some comment, probably about 'seeing it all before' knowing the pervert he is. Smithy really didn't have to take defending my skirts honour that seriously, but still, it was sweet he did.

The night was surprisingly easy, conversation flowed around the group, the CID team begrudgingly joining the Uniform one as the night progressed, Mickey accusing me of fraternising with the enemy when he followed me to the bar.

"You don't have to worry." I sighed, "I'm just-"

"He's only doing it so he can see down your top!"

"Like you?" I scowled, tilting Mickey's chin up so he wasn't talking to my breasts. "So what if he is? He can discuss the whole of war and peace with my tits if he likes, for the first time he's talking to _me_, not some bint who's hanging off his arm!" I frowned, "I thought you'd be pleased for me!"

"I am!" Mickey insisted, "I just…he's not right for you!"

"Let me find that out!" I turned, carrying the drinks back over to Smithy, unable to hide my grin as he lifted his hand from his knee and looked up from his conversation with Dan and Terry, automatically assuming that I was going to sit on his knee again. Well…it'd be rude to refuse wouldn't it…

**19th March 2005**

_Weigh: 8st 11lb, Cigarettes: 3 (haven't really been able to stop grinning long enough to light one), grins from Super!Sarge: 6, including one with an eyebrow wriggle, times caught self grinning dopily: Too many to count._

Today's been slightly…odd. It appears that after leaving the pub with Smithy last night and going for a kebab, most of the station think we spent the night together.

Whilst the idea isn't in the slightest horrifying, in fact, it's more than a little intriguing and one I'd happily investigate further, it isn't true.

We left the pub as the others continued drinking, both of us having to be at work the next day. "You going straight home?" Smithy asked quietly as we walked along the high street. I shrugged, not about to pass up on the opportunity to spend quality time with Super!Sarge.

"Nothing planned…" I smiled.

"Fancy something to eat?" He smiled and lifted his jacket from his arm, draping it around my shoulders.

"…Sure."

We turned the corner, heading up to the classiest kebab joint in Sun Hill: Abra-kebab-ra. When a man can make eating animal eyebrows look sexy, that's when you know its love. We talked and drifted in the direction of my house, pausing outside the door with half eaten kebabs. "Drink?"

"You twisted my arm." He grinned and nodded, holding my kebab as I opened the door, letting us both in. "Nice place…"

"Have you not been in yet?" I grinned and shrugged, grateful for the fact Mickey was still at the pub and wasn't due back for a while yet.

Smithy shook his head and shrugged, following me into the kitchen. "Chaz-." He trailed off and shook his head. "Don't matter."

I turned and smiled up at him, passing him a can of lager. "Something up?"

"Nah, I just…" He cleared his throat and opened the can. "What time you in tomorrow?"

"6…" I cringed, looking at the time.

"Same." He frowned at the clock, "Will have to get off soon…"

"Why don't you stay here?"

...Even I was taken aback by my forwardness.

"I mean, we could share a taxi in the morning, it'd be stupid you going home for just a couple of hours…there's a bedroom upstairs…a spare one I mean…" I rambled, kicking myself.

"You sure Mickey-"

"He won't even know." I shook my head. "He'll come in, crawl upstairs and slump over his bed."

"If you're sure…?"

"Course." I smiled and nodded, finishing the kebab as I bundled the rest into the bin, "I'll just go sort out the spare room…"

Once I'd left the room, I fought to keep my grin under control, checking the duvet and sheets in the room, oblivious to Smithy standing in the doorway as I turned. "All done."

"Thanks." He smiled a little. "I really appreciate it…"

"Any time.

So the next morning, after Mickey's panic about "There's a Sergeant in the kitchen!", we shared the taxi and set about work. …After he kissed my cheek.


	11. The Family Smith

**March 25th 2005**

_Smiles: So many it's rather scary, cigarettes: 2 – giving up, attempts at being nice to stupid people: Well, it kind of helps to mock them, especially when they don't realise._

"Are you sleeping with him?"

Hardly the best question to come home to.

"Are you sleeping with him?" Mickey's adamant that there's always something going on, even if it's all in his imagination.

"No…" I sighed reluctantly. "Mickey, I don't-"

"Don't go all high and mighty on me!" Mickey scowled. "I know what you're like."

"I beg your pardon!" That was it, who the hell did he think he was? "Are you insinuating that I'm easy?"

Mickey blinked and looked as though he wanted the ground to open up to eat him. I almost felt sorry for him before I remembered I was angry with him. "WELL?"

Mickey flinched and blushed, shaking his head. "I just meant I know you like him…"

"So?" I scoffed. "I'm single, and an adult!" Well I am, apparently. "I can do what I like!"

"Charlie…"

I flounced out the room, slamming the doors behind me, plotting all the things I was going to get Mickey to do as part of his ritual sucking up routine for whenever he upsets me. I've got him trained…

**March 29th 2005**

_Rumours: Like bloody Chinese whispers, Rumours I wish were true: I kind of like the one that Smithy's got me pregnant and we're getting married with an Elvis impersonator…Well, not to him, but yes…_

Sun Hill is under attack from the dreaded rumour mill again. If it's not Amber's latest conquest doing the rounds, it's who's shagging who, and who'd like to shag who if they got half the chance. Anyway, this time it's the turn of Super Sarge and me. I wouldn't mind so much if they're true, but I don't want him thinking I'm telling people that stuff's going on, when stuff sadly…isn't going on.

"So, when's it due?" Mickey asked with a grin, leaning on the desk.

"Are you calling me fat?"

"No!" Mickey rolled his eyes. "I just…y'know, it's called a joke, Chaz – people usually laugh at them."

"Only when they're funny."

Mickey just grinned and shrugged. "Heard the latest?"

Some of them are cringe worthy, really, if people are going to make up stories about me, at least make them interesting like…some big lurgy or something, is that too much to ask for?

"The baby is a hermaphrodite…"

"Remind me to thank Dan for his contribution." I drawled.

"And!" Mickey said with a dramatic pause. "It's not Smithy's, but his evil twin who pretended to be him for a day."

"Oh puh-lease."

"I thought you'd like it."

"They could have at least made it believable!"

"How's my sprog?" Smithy passed with an arched eyebrow. "I hope you're not killing it with nicotine."

"It'll be one of them thick skinned babies." Mickey chirruped. "Impervious to all that alcohol and stuff she's got down there already."

"Michael!" I scowled, beaming innocently at Smithy as I touched my stomach gently, leading to all later forms of cosy homely daydreams with him coming home to find me cooking his dinner with large baby bump, and him petting and talking to said bump. "She's fine."

"He-She?" Smithy gave a smirk and disappeared outside to deal with a rather angry looking member of the public.

"See, he don't mind." Mickey grinned and shrugged, having heard my worries about what Smithy might think. "Charlie, you're getting that weird look again." He prodded my arm as I started to daydream. "Chaz," he whined. "Stop iiiit!"


	12. Oh Holy Jesus

**April 10th 2005**

_Smith!Cuddles: One. Flirts: I lost count… Daydreams: numerous and mostly rude. Declarations of undying love: 17. …in my head._

Life is actually pretty good. I'm on flirting terms with my lust bunny, work is going well, I've just had a pay rise of for 72p every hour, and Kerry's had this week off on holiday. So there's been no urge to commit murder. Well, only when Andrea's around, but I'm learning to try and curb the urges y'know, and anyway…she's always up in CID now anyway, Mickey told me. He also said she's appearing when she's not working… She must fancy someone up there, she can't have Mickey though – I'd slaughter her.

**April 12th 2005**

I. Don't. Believe. It. Oh. Holy Mother Of God.

I have been asked out! By Smithy! Out! Me! Him!

OH MY GOD! What the hell am I gonna wear?

**5.49pm**

Out!

**6pm**

He physically made the effort to come and find me and ask me!

**6.01pm**

I think I love him….I know I love him…Charlotte Elizabeth Smith…wow

**6.03pm**

This could be the beginning of a beautiful friend…relationship! We could be like…like…er…Sandy&Danny from Grease without the songs and friends getting themselves up the duff…and the car race…and the fun fair…and the….OH MY GOD!

**6.10pm**

Ok, so there will be other people there tonight, but y'know HE asked ME! And it wasn't just a casual 'you out tonight?' it was a 'Do you want to go out tonight…y'know, to the Canley?'

**6.15pm**

What if we end up back at his? What if we …do stuff?

**6.17pm**

Charlotte Elizabeth Smith…Charlie Smith. Charlotte Smith. Charlie and Smithy, Smithy and Charlie… Chaffy. Smarlie….ARGH!

**6.20pm**

I best go have a quick shower…

**7.30pm**

…Shit. We're meeting in half hour!


	13. ARGH!

**April 13th 2005**

_Recollections of last night: Numerous. Differing Endings: Two…possibly. Dopey Smiles: 1 – cos the first one hasn't actually left my face… Number of concerned glances from Mickey: Countless. Glares/Pouts at June: 27. ..and a half, one was at her back._

Last night can go down as **The Best Night Ever** in the history of best nights…well, ever.

I did it. I _finally_ kissed Super Sarge!

And it was every bit as perfect as I thought it would be.

We met in the Canley with the others – having finally got my hair to dry, and applied my makeup in the ladies loos after charging through the pub so noone could see me without it. After finally emerging, I glanced around the pub and felt my heart leap as I saw him in leant against the bar with a pint, talking to Honey who was giggling and batting her eyes at him. …but we ignore that bit.

I made my way over, trying not to glare too much at Honey, and stood at his other side, gesturing to the fit barman for a drink as if I hadn't seen him. Turns out to be v. good idea as fit barman decided he was going to flirt with my cleavage, prompting Smithy to actually notice and give him the patented eyebrow wriggle and glare. Fit barman took the hint and backed away – leaving me, and sadly Honey with Smithy.

After giving Honey the 'if you don't sod off now, I will kill you and feed your entrails to my pet psycho' glare, accented with a friendly smile of course, she took the hint. Sadly it took her a good five minutes to actually sod off, but the poor love is a little blonde. After she'd gone, we drifted towards the booth at the end of where everyone else was sat, and sort of…talked.

It surprised me how easy it was too, it all just flowed. We talked about Sun Hill, shared a few giggles about Gina, the match, inevitably leading towards his beloved West Ham, but the point is it never became boring in the slightest. We must have talked for a good hour, but it all seemed natural. Usually when I talk to someone I like I'm all over the place – but with him…

Anyway – it came round to kicking out time, and I followed him outside – where he asked if I wanted to share a taxi. Given we don't live that close, I almost turned him down, but boy am I glad I never. As the cab turned out of the pub carpark, we sort of drifted closer together, and he put his arm around me and it was just…lovely. Then he looked down and leant closer, and… it happened! He kissed me! I kissed him! We kissed!

OH MY GOD WE KISSED!

…Ahem.

I sat for the rest of the journey curled against him and wondering what the hell to do next, I mean – do I invite him in? If I do invite him in – do I leave it as just coffee or do I try and lead him upstairs? If I do, what if we slept together and he didn't like it, what if he was only in it for the sex? What if he doesn't want to speak to me again? What if I'm reading too much into it and it was just a kiss after a few too many drinks?

Before I could actually put any of it into action, he received a call from June, bastardbastardJune, telling him that he was needed at the station – luckily having only had a couple of drinks he was ok in going in – but for GODS SAKE could she not have picked a better time? I know it's wrong to glare at her as it's not her fault, but it makes me feel better!


	14. Uncertainty

I'm totally gonna be updating this – all being well - regularly to push it along, you can prod me if not –winks-

**14th April 2005**

_Giggles: Numerous, Flirting practise: 2 hours and 21 minutes (it's been a slow day), Smirks and winks from super!Sarge: 1, but boy have I feasted off it all day._

After updating late last night about the night time, I was sure that it couldn't actually get any better. I was certain that today was going to go horribly wrong, or I'd find it was an dream.

But it wasn't!

I was so nervous when approaching his office for the first time today, it wasn't the normal 'ohmygod' butterflies, but something else – something more…scary. He has that knack of making people automatically relax and feel at ease…whilst also being able to scare them (if need be) in the next breath – but he wasn't there! I pushed the door open and laid the post on his desk, and turned to walk out – accidentally walking into him. He had his hands on my hips to steady me, and bless him, he didn't mention my current cherry red status, asking if I was alright.

I nodded furiously and smiled at him, thanking him from stopping me fall to the floor, though I can't say it wasn't an enjoyable experience. He smirked and said "Anytime.", and headed over to his desk where he casually mentioned that he'd 'see me later' and sort of… smirked and winked making me skip down the corridor!

'See me later'. Does that mean he will see me later? Does it mean that it was a 'let's meet up again'? Does he mean it as a passing 'yeah, get out my office now, psycho girl!'?

**PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER WOMAN!**


	15. Oh Holy Mother Of God

**30th April 2006**

_Squees: As many as I can fit in. Grins at even the evil people: countless._

This past fortnight has been amazing.

It's a total contrast to how we started the beginning of the year, even Andrea hasn't been near him lately – she's taken to giving dopey sighs at the inside of CID, and has left him – and subsequently me well alone. There's still the matter with Kerry, but then she's like it with anything in men's trousers so…

We've gone out for a drink with the others a few times, and I'm trying to work up the confidence to ask him out for one so it's just the two of us. Though getting time alone from our colleagues may be the ultimate challenge, it's impossible to shake them off when they get a whiff of gossip.

We flirt, he smirks – I giggle. We smile at each other, he smirks – I blush mostly. He winks at me – I melt. We're so compatible, dear diary.

* * *

**3rd May 2006**

OH MY GOD.

OHHH MYYY GODDD!

I didn't have to ask him! He asked me! He just came out and said it!

"Do you want to go for a drink tonight?"

"Who's going?"

"….Me. -paaaaaause- And you…."

-gawp- "…YES!" -almost fall off chair-

OH MY GOD!

**12.37pm**

So a drink. Just a drink? A drink and something to eat? A drink and that's it – never gonna see him again? A drink and ….

Gah! Stop being so female, Brain! Stop working yourself up!

**12.42pm**

But what if this is it? What if we sleep together as a result of tonight? What if we don't? What if he wants to see me again? I mean…that's good, I know – but can I take this sort of night again?

**12.44pm**

What am I saying? Of course I can!

**1.00pm**

We'd have to go back to his though. Mickey would probably be at home, and that would just cause too many awkward moments. And result in Mickey walking round like someone had shot his favourite Gillingham FC player.

**1.10pm**

I've just told Mickey I'm going out. No well done, or good luck, more "What about me? I'll starve!" Someone with as many takeaway menus as Mickey will never starve.

**1.20pm**

Super!Sarge! Mrs Super Sarge… s'got a nice ring to it, don't you think?

**1.25pm**

I wonder what our children would look like… Argh! Gina! Must work…


	16. Transformation

**3rd May 05**

**2.00pm**

I have the strangest feeling that Gina doesn't feel that a date with Super Sarge is the thing that would require taking time off to prepare, or she doesn't understand that it takes priority over filing.

What is it with these people?

**2.30pm**

"So. Smithy. What's it like rescuing small orphans and puppies from burning buildings?"

…That's not going to work.

**2.34pm**

Just an awful thought, what if other people turn up? What if it was just an offer of a lift, and that there will be other people there?

**2.40pm**

But if that was right… there'd be a mention surely. "Just me –paaaause- and you." And a few of the others will pop down later."

WHY CAN PEOPLE NOT BE MORE DESCRIPTIVE ANYMORE? Is it really too much to ask?

**3.00pm**

Think Gina's on the warpath, she always seems to walk by when I'm scribbling in here… woman must have 'she's-not-working!' radar, or do I have a flashing neon light over my head.

**3.01pm**

Note to self: Don't check for flashing neon light. You _will_ bang your head on the filing cabinet, and Gina will smirk.

**5.10pm**

That woman has strange ways of keeping people occupied, what is this thing you call 'work'? Pfft. I wonder if you can sue for paper cuts… must catch one of the duty solicitors before they go through to custody…

**5.30pm**

Home. An hour and half to get ready.

It's never gonna be anywhere near enough!

**6.00pm**

Mickey has stolen the hairdryer. He has to have done. I've checked under the bed, and in the bathroom, and in the airing cupboard, and behind the settee….

I'd check under Mickey's bed but I haven't got time to divert to the hospital for a tetanus shot. Last time I 'offered' (read 'was bribed') we found a plate of month old spaghetti and various forms of mould trying to breed and cross-contaminate each other.

**6.10pm**

Who on _earth_ put the hairdryer in the vegetable rack? I dread to think where those missing potatoes ended up….

**6.50pm**

After several dress changes and general glaring into the mirror to find things that work together we may have something. This whole - 'This old thing? First thing I threw on. Yes, it does flatter the curves, doesn't it?' - is harder than it looks. Sadly it doesn't leave time for much to do much with the hair and make up, so it's sort of… natural waves, helped with a tiny smidge of mousse, and not half the can like last time. Now. The natural make up look…

**6.54pm**

Don't want anything that might rub off on sheets.

How presumptuous is that! Not that I'm expecting to fall into his arms (...ahem) or that I'm that sort of girl it's just… It's Smithy. I've waited so long for this! It anything was to happen, I don't want him to think he's slept with a clown!

**6.56pm**

But… then I don't want to sleep in a load of make up and wake up with panda eyes and look like Dan after his latest boxing match. But I don't want to seem like I'm being easy by taking everything.

**6.58pm**

…Possibly need to rethink amount of make up one owns.

Hopefully the cleansing wipes will do the trick.

Damn you Smith!

**7.15pm**

Ready with 15 minutes free. That has to be a record, especially considering who it's for. He'll be here in 15, time to move Mickey to the kitchen and hide him out the way and then leg it round with the air freshener.

**7.20pm**

Mickey didn't take too well to being hidden away; he thinks I'm embarrassed by him. Poor love. I just don't think him seeing Smithy outside of work would be a great idea, especially not if he's sulking at me. God knows what he might say, or what even it might imply!

**7.25pm**

Awww, a cuddle and he was okay. I love my…. ARGH! DOORBELL! He's early! HOW INCONSIDERATE IS THAT!? You don't DO early to a girl! Pfft. Men.


End file.
